*Someone said, 'Don’t get drunk on the liquor of your narcissistic poetry.' And I am guilty as charged.
His body roars medicated side-effects, reeking of untouched cod
Her nose twitches at the white line of powder, they are the gods
The figures on the bills and debts burn red against fluorescent bulb
To the airport to find the soonest flight away, she is the gods
She washes two faces and four dirty hands, her gift in double
Unslept, her eyes are crescent of laughter, she is the gods
The old man curls on the bench of abandon, the memories his rooftop
She is cardboards and half-starved mouths, they are the gods
The fall accelerates, he surrenders to his grave in the mountaintop
The waiting girlfriend believes he doesn't leave, they are the gods.
I am Kartoffelsalat, Rendang and Rice, washed down with Oolong
Imperfect and faulted, but give me my glory. Hoon, are you one of the gods?
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